


Strikehedonia - The pleasure of being able to say to hell with it

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble and a Half, Fluff, Happy Anders (Dragon Age), M/M, Prompt Fill, besides gender, hawke is left vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: It's a nice change of pace when Anders isn't pulling all-nighters in the clinic. Just a fill from a list of one-word emotion prompts.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Kudos: 11





	Strikehedonia - The pleasure of being able to say to hell with it

Even for such a small window, a remarkable amount of light managed to slip through and illuminate the otherwise dim clinic in the dredges of Kirkwall's underbelly. Usually, this was only as the sun was setting outside and low enough in the sky to reach Darktown. Such a simple thing always seemed to be enough to temporarily rejuvenate Anders as he stood beneath the rays for several minutes, soaking in what little he could before it vanished below the horizon. He had since freed his hair from its ponytail, and let it hang loose to sweep his shoulders. How long had it been since he'd seen a barber? Not that Hawke could honestly speak to personal care, as Anders had gone to kiss him on the cheek this morning before he left and met scratchy stubble. 

Still, the memory of it brought a smile to his lips while he continued, moving cots around to sweep the floor beneath. Hawke had promised to stop in and help, but the stream of patients had tapered off much earlier than expected, and if it meant he could get back home earlier then Anders had no qualms doing it himself.

Home. Right. It was still strange to call the Amell manor his home, but Hawke had gone to great lengths to ensure he felt welcome and comfortable - like it was his space too. The effort was appreciated, from the both of them even. Anders vaguely registered agreement from Justice, who had otherwise been little more than a buzzing in the back of his mind for most of the day.

Once Anders finished restoring order to the empty clinic, his body almost slumped forward all on its own, but he braced himself against his desk. When arms wrapped around his waist, he let go and leaned against the solid form at his back. Anders released the breath he felt like he had been holding all night in a long exhale. 

"Oh? Tired of me already?" Hawke's words came out in a breathy whisper that tickled his neck.

Anders relished the security those arms provided him and sunk deeper against Hawke's chest. "I'm always tired, but never of you, love."

Chuckles vibrated against the delicate skin of his throat. "Good," Hawke stated, before nuzzling the crook of his neck. Anders squirmed but didn't pull away; he was much too content right where he was. Tomorrow would mark three years since he had moved into the Amell manor. It had been three years since he began his relationship with Hawke, who now buried his nose into his hair, whose mouth buzzed comfortably against the back of his head while he mumbled something.

"What was that?" Anders asked, with a chuckle.

"I said you smell nice."

He scoffed. He legitimately scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to say, and yet it made his face hot, and his chest tightened in the same way it always did whenever they were together. "You're not serious? I've been down here all day, and surely need twenty baths by now."

Hawke's laugh, when feeling his best, was always such a rich and deep sound that originated from the heart. It was a warm cloak draped over Anders' shoulders to guard against the Darktown chill, reminiscent of sitting beside a roaring hearth. 

"You laugh, but it's true."

"What can I say, I don't mind one bit that you come home smelling like elfroot."

Anders was not a man who needed to be showered in sappy platitudes or inundated with compliments. That his lover had such a fond appreciation for him even at his worst meant more than he had proper words to express. Just for a moment, he lost himself in the peace, and he drew a long steady breath through his nose while studying the pages of parchment spread out across his desk.

There was much more work to be done, from logging patient notes to finishing yet more of his manifesto but-

But the lack of constant prodding against his subconscious and the woody scent of earth and smoke clinging to Hawke pulled on his will.

"Go douse the lanterns, love," Anders requested as he slipped free from Hawke's arms.

"Oh? I came down to help, but I won't argue if you wanted to call it early." The glint in his blue eyes spoke his excitement rather loudly. "I don't want to distract you if you have more work to do."

Anders took one more glance at the mess across his station but fought back the inherent need, the urge to change his mind and settle in for the long haul. He abandoned the desk after a brief internal struggle and reached for Hawke's hand to leave the clinic. 

"Yes. I'm sure. Come on."


End file.
